See No Evil
by SSJ-Alhazred
Summary: Set between Epiphanies and Black Market, dealing with Lee's near suicidal state of mind and Kara trying to deal with it. Mild slash.


**See No Evil**

Battlestar Galactica © Sci Fi Channel, this document not created/intended for monetary gain of any form. Rated 'M' for mature themes and some good ol' fashioned angst.

Playing cards just isn't the same anymore.

Oh, Starbuck is her usual self, and she has her usual cigar. Doctor Baltar is at the table once more (did they even ever bother playing a game when he was over on Pegasus, what with all of them having burdens laid down by Admiral Cain to deal with?)

Apollo never really got in on the whole card thing beyond a random game here and there, probably something about Starbuck once telling him that the CAG shouldn't make sweet with his pilots. Still, just the thought of him still sinking into his bunk while he stares at the ceiling and wishing he were dead blunts everything Starbuck does during the day.

Doctor Baltar wins the last hand. So be it, Starbuck can accept some losses. The man's the only one who ever beats her, really. It's a weird kind of balance maintained at this table. He starts playing, she wins some, she loses some, he wins some, he loses some, she fracks him, Crashdown dies and his seat is empty but at least Helo is back so there's not really one less at the table...how frakked up is that, anyway?

Come to think of it, Starbuck wonders if this is the first game she's played since getting back from Caprica or if it's not and she just can't remember. How easily the mind slips these days.

"Guess that's game, Doctor." Starbuck's _attitude_ is not blunted. Both of them are long through the awkward phase that comes after bad idea-sex. It feels like twenty years ago.

Starbuck is not the object of Baltar's attention. He finds the chair to his immediate right (Crashdown's old chair) far more interesting. Then again, Baltar is like that, always talking in directions other than towards the person he's addressing. It's part of his charm. "Yes, well, I _am_ rather proud of myself." He turns to her, finally. "For winning, that is. At cards, winning at cards, as you're quite the capable opponent, Lieutenant. You know what they say," back to the chair, "Twice the pride, double the fall. Oh, and I really would like to talk to you about the recent Cylon engagement and their jumping habits, if you'd be so inclined...well, at your convenience, of course..."

Ignoring his bait, Starbuck glances off to the side. Helo takes a drink from his bottle before he says anything. "Beaten _and_ burned."

Hearing Doctor Baltar mutter something about Helo being more right than he knows, Starbuck takes a drag off of her cigar and gets up. She's running out, pretty soon it'll be time to scour the fleet and barter for more nicotine, if there's any left elsewhere.

Tomorrow morning, Starbuck will be out in space again, relishing Admiral Adama's 'un-merging' of the crews. A gesture of good will to _Pegasus,_ showing her crew that he has no intention of whipping them like Cain did. He thinks it's a good thing. They probably think he's soft. Of course, it's Bill; they'll learn the hard way. Starbuck is just happy she doesn't have to be CAG anymore.

She's not happy that she's Lee's subordinate. It's not that Starbuck minds taking orders from him, it's that he's such a total head-case right now, it _hurts._ It's painful to put up with, and it's painful to see him suffer. It's also downright infuriating that she's the only one who really knows he's not okay, he hides it well. He can be a good actor. He fools his father and pretty much everyone who would make a fuss.

Except her. Making a fuss is something Starbuck is good at, and as she strolls into the Senior Officer's Quarters, which is really a bunch of slots in the wall, she wonders why she hasn't made a fuss yet.

Seeing him still laying there like he's already dead, she knows it's because she can't bear to walk up to his father and tell him something's wrong, not after she spilled her guts out about Zak. Funny thing is, not telling the Admiral about this is really the same thing.

There's one difference now; Lee's staring at the pages of a book with bright red binding, maybe it's a sign he's coming out of his funk. Then again, he's only seemed slightly happier since the last attack from the Cylons. Maybe it's a sign that he's looking forward to getting blown to shreds out in space.

"Hey," Starbuck says.

He nods.

She's not satisfied. "Whatcha' reading?"

"Kataris," Lee answers.

Her head tilting slightly, Starbuck wonders how morbid she should think this is. The red of the book's cover is suddenly familiar; it's Palladino's. Or at least it _was._ "How _is_ ol' Hammerhead doing?"

She hasn't been to see him since he almost killed Tigh. In truth, she has no clue what's happening to him, either. Lee is a good CAG, he cares about his pilots, even the ones that have totally flipped their gourd. "He's fine. Bored, I guess. I think the new priest visits him, too."

Talk about a non-answer. Palladino is obviously in Lee's position, really frakked up in the head right now. Of course, it's already made him do something he regrets. Starbuck really hopes it doesn't come to that with Lee. He automatically scootches over in his bunk so she can sit on the edge just like always; at least some things never change. "Frak, I keep _forgetting_ poor Elosha's...you know."

"She was a nice person," Lee's eyes never stray from his book, though his tone tells her that he sees the irony as well. How strange to have lost so many friends, pilots known much longer, and to think of a priest met only recently. Finally, Lee lets his book flop down over his stomach, still open to the page he was on. "Kataris is boring, actually."

Someone stirs in their bunk, but doesn't wake up. This cabin is usually pretty vacant now. Ever since Palladino's been gone, it's been harder to ignore just how few senior officers there _are_ in their neck of the woods these days. Starbuck knows this. "Like I said...not one of his better works."

She leaves Lee there, free to his venture into depressing Caprican poetry. Maybe when they get to Earth someone in the fleet'll start writing some new literature. New legends and stories to pass on to their children.

Of course, Starbuck hasn't forgotten that she might very well never have children after what the Cylons did. Funny, how one thinks of these things only when they're in danger. Children with Lee wouldn't be such a bad thing, really. Or maybe it's just the lesser evil compared to Doctor Baltar.

The next day, Starbuck thinks about visiting Sharon in her little cell. It's weird, she thinks of her much more as a person since the entire incident with that idiot from _Pegasus._ Maybe something about going through the same kind of thing. Cylons kill humans, humans kill Cylons, Cylons rape humans, humans rape Cylons...each atrocity just drew more attention to the act instead of which species was perpetuating it.

She talks to Helo instead, just like old times when Sharon was unattainable and he didn't have so much to worry about. They hit the gym with gloves and a mind for sparring. "So how's Sharon doing?"

He throws a punch, his arm hooking to the side; Helo can bench-press a ton, but he's a victim of movie fighting; he thinks it works like it does in an action flick. It doesn't work nearly as well for learning hand-to-hand combat as it does for learning squad tactics and how to use guns; Anders could attest to that. As such, Starbuck simply leans back a little and his gloved hand hits only air while Starbuck wonders what having children with Anders would be like. Better than with Lee, probably.

Helo doesn't dwell on his missed punches. "Excuse me?"

She hits him twice, once in the stomach, once in the ribs, and knows he's flinching because his bruises from getting beat up on by those frakking _Pegasus_ yee-haw boys haven't healed yet. If he's bruised from his disastrous first time flying a Viper in the not too recent past, he'll still have that, too. "It's a simple question, Karl."

"Just not one I expect from you," he gets a shot to her face, but it's another hook punch and he's still not close enough for that; a glancing blow. "You didn't seem sympathetic to her when you, ah, first met."

"Well," Starbuck's face doesn't change, though Helo dances around her a little. She knows enough to keep her feet on the floor. "I guess Sharon the Cylon just grows on you. Besides, you're gonna be a daddy, right? Gods help the poor kid."

He laughs, and hits her again, a good punch this time. "She's...fine. As well as can be expected. The old man apologized to her, you know. Came down and said he was sorry he let something like that happen on his own ship right under his nose. Said it right to her face. I think it helped."

"Yeah, well, I bet Admiral Cain getting done in by a Cylon made her feel better," Starbuck smashes him a good one, almost gives him a bloody nose. There's that bitterness again...Starbuck would've blown Cain's brains out herself, sure, but it doesn't mean the woman deserved to die. Be relieved of her command, maybe...why didn't Roslin think of that? She's the president, after all, she can do such things. "You're moving too much. Don't put your shoulder into it, it's not really making you stronger. Just means you're out of reach. Does more damage to punch straight out."

Helo's pride is hurt by a woman half his size giving him advice on fisticuffs. Starbuck intends this and she plants one right in the gut. He doesn't show it too much, but he coughs as he talks. "Here I thought we were just sparring..."

Not having sparred with Bill Adama since before the Cylon attack, Starbuck nonetheless remembers the lessons he taught her about brawling. She's certain that, if not for getting punched in the face by him quite a few times, that blond Cylon bitch on Caprica would've had a much easier time pounding her to a pulp. "That's why you're losing."

He doesn't take her advice. Helo throws another of his bad punches, but he _does_ pay mind to his range and steps in with it; now it's Starbuck's turn to throw a crooked punch. With Helo so close, she lets her arm come up under his, hooking over the side for a perfect punch to the side of his head.

He goes down. "Ow..."

"Sorry, buddy," Starbuck helps him up, it takes two hands because they're still wearing their gloves. "I just needed to kick someone's ass, you know, wounded pride after that Cylon with the huge rack busted my nose."

"Sharon told me they built themselves to be better soldiers," he says. "You know, for when the human ones go into combat."

"Tell me about it." Remembering that fight, how much effort she had to put into her punches to hurt a woman who should've broken like a trig, Starbuck resolves to never fight fairly again. A superior opponent just isn't much motivation for being a good sport.

A quick shower later and it's into the flight suit and out the hanger for a rotation on the CAP. Halfway through, she bids a safe landing to Hot Dog, Kat and the others done for the day. Helo is in one of the Vipers with the fresh wave of fighters for three solid reasons: he's had flight training, they're short on Viper pilots, and the Raptor pilots aren't part of the small group that doesn't hate him. Starbuck imagines he spent the entire time between their little workout and now talking with Sharon (thus accentuating why the Raptor pilots hate him.) She can't resist getting on the comm. "Hey, Helo, how's the jaw?"

"Very funny, Starbuck," he answers back. "Hurts less than the last time I was out here."

The entire CAP hears their exchange and actively wonders what they're talking about, although they know Helo almost got killed during his first run in a fighter. Palladino might say something lewd, if he was out here. Someone calls Helo a very rude thing involving the word "Toaster," but she can't tell whom.

The Viper pilots probably tolerate him because they don't need to look at him. Lee is in the fresh group as well, and he takes Helo around the fleet for some manuvers.

Once back on _Galactica,_ her patrol having been completely uneventful, Starbuck still carries this thought. It's this thought that tells her what to do with her evening; no, she can't bring herself to see Sharon. Frankly, Starbuck still hates her too much, sympathy notwithstanding. Hate takes time to go away, when a former enemy, an enemy who's violated her on so many levels, defects.

So she goes to the regular brig. There's only one person there, and he's much lower profile than Roslin was. Starbuck never saw her in here, and she's glad she didn't, but she imagines a political prisoner wouldn't be allowed unsupervised visits. "How's it going, Joe?"

Palladino is hunched over, sitting on the edge of his cell's cot until she talks. He's looking at the floor, as if the few books piled nearby (none of them are by Kataris) aren't as interesting as the light's spot of glare. His face doesn't show much out of the ordinary, though he looks somehow emaciated. Like there's less of him then there used to be.

He does look up at her, though. "Hi."

"Well, looks like they gave you the luxury suite," she says, typically Starbuck. She even looks around in a very exaggerated manner.

One thing about Starbuck, if she didn't piss people off, she cheered them up. Right now, Palladino is in the latter group, and he actually smiles, slightly. If his hair was longer, he might look like Guy Fawkes. "Yeah, well."

She wants to make a joke about how she went out of her way to tell Lee she could've been a suspect in Palladino's machinations of Colonel Tigh. She at least wants to tell him she hopes he's feeling OK and might, just might make it back on the flight roster sometime before next year no matter how unrealistic that may be. Instead, she says, "Well...I have to get going. See you around."

Starbuck practically runs out and doesn't look back. She feels sick all of a sudden, positive it's self-revulsion, that her inability to talk to that poor, pitiable man or even apologize that it took her so long to _try_ is worthy of _only_ revulsion. Kataris once wrote something on that, but it's not in Palladino's book.

Maybe it's that the whole thing with the _Gideon_ transport happened while she was back on Caprica. Starbuck's never really thought about it, doesn't even know the details beyond "Hammerhead's squad of Marines shot up some civvies when they probably didn't have to." She was too busy fighting for her life and having a kindly old doctor do horrible things to her. On that thought, Starbuck decides she is never, ever talking to any doctor who is not Doctor Cottle for the rest of her life; he's too much of an asshole to be a Cylon.

A cigar sounds good right about now, so she heads back to the Senior Officer's Quarters, feeling a little better at just the thought of a good smoke. Her ever-dwindling supply isn't totally gone yet. Still some time left before moths start flying out of the little box nestled between her cot and the shelf it sits on. Back before the Cylons came, someone swiped a cigar every now and then when they were in her locker and she didn't find this prospect funny anymore when they suddenly became some of the last cigars in the galaxy.

She steadies herself before slipping in through the hatch, not wanting Lee to see her all disheveled. The last thing Lee needs is for Starbuck, great warrior that she is, to walk around looking like _he_ does. So she strolls in confidant, ready to say "hi" to him as she walks over to her bunk.

She stops two steps in; someone else is in her usual spot on the edge of Lee's cot, sitting much like she does when they're having a heart-to-heart about recent missions and close calls and successes. Hot Dog isn't just sitting there, though, he's leaning over him and they're making out like there's no tomorrow. Despite the sight before her, Starbuck is oddly comforted on a certain level; it means Lee has some emotion left after all.

Beyond that, she shifts her weight awkwardly. Her mouth works faster than her brain, as it usually does when she's talking to Colonel Tigh. "Hey, Constanza," and Hot Dog jumps enough to hit his head on the shelf above Lee's, "You digging for cubits in his throat or what?"

He stares at her, not really surprised but not having anything to say, either. Lee is the same, turning so he can look out of his little cubby hole. He looks more shocked, really. Not really caring about that part, Starbuck is busy being aghast at herself for being so tactless. Neither of them are Colonel Tigh, after all. So she adds, "Right."

And turns to leave. But then she turns _back,_ with a "Frack me!" that's more of a personal frustration. She goes right for her bunk, pries open the oh-so-sweet-smelling box under her pillow, grabs a cigar, and feeling Lee and Hot Dog's eyes on her the entire time, she marches straight out.

---

The service for Admiral Cain hadn't been more than a day behind everyone before Lee notices how much no one cared. He is consciously aware of this fact, so much so that he accidentally cuts himself with his razor while Kat and Hot Dog saunter into the head.

"That was _nuts,_ Kat..."

"It was a perfectly valid flight maneuver!"

"You almost _collided_ with that guy from _Pegasus..._"

Trying not to wish he'd sliced his jugular open (but really wishing he had,) Lee finishes shaving and washes up. His facecloth ends up having a line of red on it, but he doesn't care. He finds himself not caring about Kat almost getting herself killed in an apparent Starbuck maneuver, either. After all, getting killed isn't something anyone cares about anymore, certainly not his father or President Roslin. So why should _he_ care?

"Hey, Captain, you missed what Kat did, Sir," Hot Dog is all too eager to share this story, it seems. "She pulled a split-S like I was chasing her or something, and almost hit Stinger head on. Guess it's lucky those _Pegasus_ flyboys all have Mark VIIs, right, Sir?"

Kat was already in the shower and _singing._ Lee wanted to throw up. "Right. Lucky."

He spat the word 'lucky' with such bile it stops Hot Dog in his tracks, his flight suit bunched down at his waste. Apollo turns away from him and rushes out the door before he's even finished pulling his top shirt on. _Lucky,_ Lee thinks. Is Hot Dog _retarded?_ And Kat is still singing, quite happy with herself.

Why didn't the end of the world teach anyone that life was precious? Fine, Cain was killed by a Cylon, and the Cylons certainly don't care. Fine, maybe he couldn't argue that killing her was a bad idea. Military protocol isn't what keeps him up at night over the issue, more of a gnawing feeling that if he tallied up the numbers, it would turn out that humans had killed more of those not-quite-fifty-thousand survivors than the Cylons had.

Especially if he counts the _Olympic Carrier._ No one seems to find this idea at all grotesque or have trouble living with it. It is on this thought that Lee tries to get some sleep, but it's not very good sleep. He's become the epitome, perhaps the outright cliche of a disturbed mind, as his sleep is wracked with nightmares.

There's always a pattern. Tonight, he sees Sharon, that other, dead Sharon, shooting his father as it happened. He's handcuffed and can barely hold his father as he screams for Doc Cottle, left to ponder the irony of his father being taken from him on the verge of their mutual hostilities renewing.

Then, President Roslin is the shooter, and he can't figure out why she's not in the brig. Finally, Lee himself is shooting his father, his own father...but it's not in CIC like it actually happened, it's on Kobol as he's reconciling with Roslin. He walks up and asks his father, his throat like sandpaper, "This is the shape of things to come?"

His father's answer is "So I'm told," and Lee just pulls his gun and fires.

This is the last one Lee remembers as he wakes up. He doesn't jolt awake, he just opens his eyes, the nightmare still fresh on his mind. He knows he was feeling an inescapable need to spill blood on Kobol.

If you couldn't return to the birthplace of humanity without killing something...well, no wonder people treated death so badly. It was one hell of a way to start his day, and his rotation. He takes a Mark II out; Lee doesn't feel up to handling the Mark VII.

Lee heard through the grapevine that his temporary replacement as CAG while he'd been off gallivanting with Roslin was a total screw-up. Mostly through Kat, and her words were a little more colorful then that. Granted, Kat's never lodged a comment about another specific person since D'anna Biers had caught her on-camera getting busted for drug abuse, and Lee liked to think she had a new respect for peoples' faults.

Maybe it was only worry about others looking down on her since it got out to the entire fleet, but Lee prefers to be optimistic whenever there was a chance right now. Funny, he's never minded the mundane tasks of being CAG, and that doesn't change right now.

The first UNREP he ends up guiding is interesting, though. The tanker has some visible scars and makeshift repairs, the kind common to the fleet whenever something was damaged since their little exodus. He can't remember any of the tankers being damaged.

His mind only on the tasks at hand as much as it needs to be, Lee is surprised at how time flies. To think that he had wasted so much of his _precious_ life and not even realized it bothered him on a certain level. It bothers him even though what he was doing _was_ productive. It bothers him because he was using his limited time, and his time _was_ limited, he and everyone else's, to be productive for others instead of himself.

Being in a position of responsibility is a real drag. And it grated on Lee's nerves even more when he noticed the wing of Mark VII Vipers flying by for the umpteenth time, looking like they somehow thought they were _better_ than he was.

They had a Raptor with them, too, and that made Lee remember that they weren't the only ones. He flipped open a comm channel. "Racetrack; Apollo. Who is that on patrol?"

"Flight from _Pegasus,_ Sir," Racetrack crackled over his wireless. Lee had guessed as much, but he didn't expect what she said next. "Captain Taylor flying lead."

Stinger. The _Pegasus_ CAG was doing the equivalent of sitting on his heels, and it made Lee actually wonder why he ever thought he didn't like Starbuck in the roll of CAG. How dare that stuck-up idiot just sit out here and...fly? Lee switched his wireless frequency over. "Stinger; Apollo. What are you doing?"

Stinger was a typical example of _Pegasus_ crew, even now, even with Fisk, a man with much more sanity than Cain had in charge. "Flying a patrol...Captain."

The last word has some obvious disdain in it. Lee doesn't care. "Any reason you haven't been assisting with operations at the other end of the fleet?"

"The fleet?" Stinger is, perhaps, genuinely surprised at this idea. Maybe a little. His Viper flies out of view around _Pegasus_ as Apollo watches. "I'm flying CAP for a Battlestar, Captain Adama, not babysitting some civvies."

Oh, that did it. Stinger couldn't have pushed Lee's buttons harder if he was trying. At least Roslin and his father arrived at their disdain for human life through careful planning and weighing of consequences. They were still wrong, of course, but at least they _tried_ to care. "Well, I feel safer already, knowing the onslaught of Cylons will take just long enough to shoot through you that I'll have time to line up a shot."

He clicks his wireless off before Stinger gives him a reply. He hopes he hit a nerve, that his blatant unwillingness to even pretend buying into Stinger's superiority complex would seriously piss him off.

As he lands, Lee feels like he understands Starbuck a little more. Telling Stinger off like that was...oddly liberating, especially after how much he'd been abused under the man's command. What could the man do now, report him? Hopefully, he would go back and tell his shipmates that _Galactica's_ little out of control crew wasn't going to take crap from them anymore.

He's not going to tell Starbuck about it, it's his own personal victory and he doesn't want to hear how proud she is of him. Once the flight suit is off, Lee has a mind to wander the corridors for a few minutes. When he comes down from his high, he hits the gym and feels like he's still high anyway, like he's the one giving the weights a workout instead of the other way around.

Every rep feels as good as that blow to Stinger's ego, and again, time flies, but it's okay. It's okay for awhile, until Colonel Tigh walks in, obviously uncomfortable in this place, somewhere he knows he could stand to spend more time instead of with his flask.

Lee is done having problems with Tigh, unless Tigh starts mouthing off at him again. It's in the past, and he stands at attention along with the two enlisted men elsewhere in the gym. "Colonel."

"Captain." That's Tigh's equivalent of 'at ease,' but Lee doesn't move much. He just listens. "Word is you don't get along too well with the CAG from _Pegasus?_"

"No, Sir," and Lee refuses to be ashamed. "Captain Taylor has an attitude problem. Sir."

"No doubt," Tigh feigns sympathy, though there's some genuine understanding. "Funny, it's the same thing he said about you in his official complaint to the Admiral."

Just like that, Lee's high is gone. It would seem his jibe at Stinger worked a little _too_ well. A formal complaint? How silly _was_ that, anyway? Not one to care, Tigh just wants to get his job done and go about his actual duties for the day. "Look, I know that ship has it's fair share of...over-enthusiasm, but the man's your equal now; _try_ to make nice before it lands you back in the brig."

At Lee's 'yes, sir,' Tigh turns and leaves. The whole exchange seems surreal; how often does Colonel Tigh go and find people like that? He realizes his father must've sent him down...the idea that Lee's own father is either too lazy or just plain unwilling to tell him this itself would bother him, but it's just a drop in the bucket.

The world, Lee decides before he's even out of the shower, has gone mad.

Putting bad thoughts of Stinger out of his mind, Lee wanders into the briefing room to make the usual changes on the rotation board. It has to be done _sometime,_ after all. It takes him a second to get his thoughts and all the names in order given all the recent events that have sent the roster for a loop.

He almost writes "Hammerhead" into the CAP, even for his favorite time to be out there, Lee recalls. Funny, he can't remember anything like that for Starbuck. He puts Kat where he would've put Hammerhead and leaves it at that, going on to fill out the next couple of days, but he doesn't remember even his own shifts as soon as he walks away.

He has a direction now, though. Lee pays a visit to Palladino in the brig, and Corporal Venner doesn't give him any hassle over it.

It seems like Palladino is still a good little soldier. He's doing sit-ups on his cot, slowly and thoughtfully, if exercise can be thoughtful. He's on his feet in no time, almost knocking over the small pile of books at the foot of his bed in the process. "Sir!"

It makes Lee uncomfortable, actually. "Uh...as you were?"

He sits back down, but he's still at attention. It's a pretty awkward silence, and Palladino is the one to break it. "Can I do anything for you, Sir?"

"Actually, I," Lee's not sure what he's here for, though. "What're you doing, anyway?"

"Sit-ups, Sir. I mean," he starts over. "Thinking things over, Sir. Until I get over _Gideon,_ I guess."

He's never thought about it, but Lee is very, very glad he wasn't part of that whole mess, even if he didn't have the luxury of reading material while he was in the brig.

He'd had the luxury of leaving and doing a job, though. "You just sit around all day?"

The sweat on Palladino's face suggested he's spent a lot more time doing sit-ups than just sitting around. "I read a lot, Sir. Helps the time go by. Gives you a better insight on people." This is when he gets up, and Lee barely notices that he's taken the top book from one of his little stacks until he's at the bars. "You look like you wish time went by a little faster yourself, if you don't mind me saying so, Sir."

Lee takes the book through the bars, wondering if he really looks that bad, if his guise of normalcy isn't as good as he thought it was. The binding is a faded red, and he can't help but run his hand over the cover, curious to see if the embossed letters are raised. It's a book by Kataris, and Lee raises it to his head, giving Palladino a mock-salute. "I just might. Carry on, Lieutenant."

He leaves, thinking that he doesn't really want time to go by faster (he's not running out of oxygen right now) but that he'd really like a better insight on people. Maybe then he could understand Roslin and his father a little more.

After six steps outside of the brig, Lee stops in his tracks, Palladino's book held firmly to his hip. What he _wants_ is for _Stinger_ to have better insight on people, to understand how important they are.

He's pretty sure he doesn't need Kataris for that, either.

The chief only asks him if he'd like a pilot to fly him over when he requests a Raptor. When Lee says 'no,' Tyrol offers him an assurance that he'll have an escort to wherever he's going and points him to the closest Raptor on the hanger.

Pre-flight seems to take far too long, but Lee goes through the checklist anyway. Suddenly, it seems like not long at all once he's in space, a pair of Mark II Vipers forming up on him immediately.

Chief Tyrol hadn't been kidding, and Lee is even greeted by his enthusiastic, if somewhat unnecessary escorts. "Apollo; Hot Dog. Where are we heading off to today, Sir?"

_"Pegasus,"_ Lee answers. Not that they know he's coming.

His other escort is Kat. "We giving them a flying lesson, Sir?"

"Neither of you need to land," Lee tells them, quite quickly after Kat's all-too-happy wish for some inter-ship dueling. "I won't be long."

The first thing he notices upon setting foot on _Pegasus_ is the changed atmosphere; large portions of the crew might miss their personal war against a vastly superior Cylon force, but with Cain gone, they no longer have a backing for their attitudes. He finds it much easier to just walk down the corridors to CIC.

Lee greets Fisk with a snappy salute, one Fisk returns in kind. "Captain Adama, welcome back aboard. What can I do for you?"

"Actually, Sir," Lee goes right to the point, "I was wondering if I might borrow your CAG for a few hours."

When Fisk turns to look at his boards, Lee realizes how much the man doesn't want to be here, in this position. He doesn't think he's cut out to command a Battlestar, but he's doing it anyway. The circumstances of Cain's death notwithstanding, Lee doesn't miss her. Maybe Starbuck was right about her value as an officer, maybe she wasn't. Regardless, Cain's utter contempt for life makes Lee not really care how capable she was.

Fisk isn't long in giving an answer. "I don't see why not. He's landing now."

Perfect; Lee is impressed with his scheming. He's rather new to subtle, social subterfuge, but it seems to be working rather well. He even catches Stinger on the flight deck before the man has a chance to get out of his flight suit. "Captain Taylor."

He doesn't salute him. Stinger regards him with barely a passing glance. "Captain."

So, Lee decides to play up his position. Stinger was so convinced that he'd gotten there by being his father's son (as if rank should be anything to flaunt, anything other than one's responsibilities now that the world had ended,) why not use it against him? "Would you come with me please, Captain?"

That stops Stinger in his tracks. "On who's authority?"

Honestly not sure if the man thinks he's being arrested, Lee decides that it's even better to play off of. "Commander Fisk's."

A pause, and then Stinger says, "Fine."

Not one to suffer indignity, Stinger takes the co-pilot's seat in the Raptor, though he doesn't look at Lee until he talks to Kat over the wireless once they're underway. "Kat, Hot Dog; Apollo. We're landing on _Cloud 9._"

"Roger that, Apollo," Kat says.

It gets Stinger's attention, mostly because he knows _Cloud 9_ is a civilian ship and doesn't know why he should care about it. In truth, Lee isn't totally certain his plan for introducing Stinger to the fleet will really accomplish anything, and he would've preferred to have the man talk with Roslin or something...but he isn't going to go there.

Stinger is silent through the trip. He's silent after they land, but he gives Kat a dirty look when she immediately becomes rambunctious at the prospect of having time to goof off on the fleet's luxury liner; after all, Lee hasn't told them to stand ready.

Hot Dog catches Stinger's glances, though, because he doesn't know anyone on _Cloud 9_ and silently falls in behind his superior officers.

Indeed, Stinger makes his displeasure obvious. "What are we doing here?"

Lee merely hushes him as they make their way out of the ship's hanger deck, straight out into the dome. Hot Dog has been here before, and Lee has been here possibly more than he cares to remember. Stinger, however, has seen nothing but space and the inside of _Pegasus_ for months on end, and he's taken aback by the sight of the artificially made environment, with it's greens and blues and cobbled paths to the Quorum building.

They walk down one of those paths, almost all the way to the meeting hall, and Lee is intentionally giving Stinger as much of a culture shock back into the human race as he can. They walk by the gardener tending the hedges, and a lawn with automatic sprinklers going off before he sits down on a bench not far from where several delegates are leaving; a Quorum meeting has just finished, it seems.

"Sit," Lee says. Stinger doesn't answer, and Lee doesn't look at him. "Sit _down,_ Captain." Stinger does eventually sit, and Lee motions to the people in suits walking out of the building, a specific few of them with sashes over their chest. "See that? That's what we're here for. Just to see the people, that's all."

"You're out of your frakking mind."

Hot Dog snickers behind them; Lee only has a little grin on his face. "You're the one I need to drag over here for a poetic moment about the value of people. But hey, I'm just a CAG because my Daddy did me a favor. So shut up, look at them, and don't turn away until you understand how much of a frakking _miracle_ it is that there's this much left of the human race. If Admiral Cain appreciated it more, I bet she'd be alive."

That's a lie; Admiral Cain's death was by a Cylon in the end, and Lee chooses to ignore the fact that she would've been killed by, ironically enough, those that _do_ understand what they're looking at right now. His statement accomplishes his goal of pushing Stinger's buttons, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees him turn to say something nasty. Or to hit him, Lee can't tell.

He's interrupted by someone Lee hasn't seen approaching them. "Well said, Apollo. If only your father thought more like you."

This person, Lee turns to look at. "Tom."

Tom Zarek. Lee hasn't even thought about him until now, but he realizes he really should have. He doesn't care for Zarek much more than he cares for Roslin right now, the man kills people for his own ends. Whatever actual value he has is seriously blunted by that. Zarek knows Lee feels this way, but he doesn't care. As much as Lee is loathe to admit he, he and Zarek are as much alike as they are different, and Zarek plays on it whenever they talk. "Out for a morning constitutional, Captain? Come to see the gears of government turn or here for a bit of R & R? You could use a vacation."

"Just here for the sights, Tom," Lee doesn't stand.

Neither does Stinger. It doesn't stop him from talking. "You're a terrorist."

It takes nothing more than Tom Zarek being polite to finally catch Stinger off guard, something Lee could never have done on his own. "And you must be from _Pegasus,_ great Gods' send that it is. Pleasure to meet you; Tom Zarek."

He extends his hand, and Stinger actually shakes it, because he doesn't know how much Zarek probably hates the _Pegasus_ given the glimpse of Cain's military superiority complex the fleet had. "Captain Taylor."

"Pleasure to meet you, Captain," Zarek is still all smiles. "And Apollo...if you happen to be privy to it, I'd like to know where President Roslin is, a quick answer would be nice."

It takes Lee off guard, as he's somehow been under the impression that his intent to completely ignore Roslin would inspire other people to not ask him questions about her. He's pretty sure she's just sick of talking to people about her miraculous recovery. "I wouldn't know, Tom. Maybe if she didn't hate your guts it wouldn't be such a problem to reach her."

"Harsh." Zarek gives them a small, light-hearted bow. "Well, on that happy note, I really must be going. So much to be done, you understand. Be safe, Captain Adama, Captain Taylor."

"That man," Stinger drawls, once Zarek is out of earshot. "Is on your government. He's a terrorist and he sits on your sad excuse for a legislature."

His choice of words isn't lost on Lee. "Well what can you say, Saggitarons like someone who gets things done. It's your government too, unless you can convince Fisk that you're all better off jumping back to the colonies and gloriously defeating the Cylons with one Battlestar. Otherwise, vote when the elections come up."

That had been Cain's flaw; the woman was brilliant in many ways. She must've been convinced she was doing the right things, too, fighting the war everyone on _Galactica_ conceded to already losing. Her grip on the situation, however, was totally frakking crazy, and Lee wonders how long it will take everyone on _Pegasus_ to understand that her grand war plan was nothing short of delusional. As it turns out, Stinger has not yet come to that understanding. "We hit them a dozen times, we destroyed hundreds of military assets..."

"And it never made a dent, did it?" Lee turned, not looking at Stinger but glancing at him as he kept going to look at Hot Dog for a second, reminding himself of the constant dents the Cylons made in _them._ That Hot Dog had been a replacement for an accidental death didn't seem to matter. "Your own resources dwindled, though. How many pilots did you start with? If you want to reject your reality and replace it with your own, Captain Taylor, at least admit to it."

Stinger's way of answering was to stand up and start walking off, as though he would hit Lee otherwise. Lee keeps talking. "Get a good look of this place, Captain...because it's all that's left, and the sooner you understand that...what it means...the better you'll feel."

He doesn't know if that's true. Usually, it makes Lee feel pretty good, to be useful in defending the last of humanity. These days, though...

"I'll find my own way back to my ship," Stinger is walking away now. "Don't bother waiting."

"Suit yourself," Lee says. Once Stinger is gone, faded into the false horizon like Zarek before him, Lee lets his head fall back to the bench so he can stare at the blue above. "Where did Kat run off to, anyway?"

"I saw her getting a tan at the pool when we walked by, Sir."

"Oh." After thinking about it for a minute, Lee is a little bothered by this idea. "She..._does_ have a bathing suit, right?"

The fleet really doesn't need to see anymore of Kat than they already have, and Hot Dog managed to keep a straight face over the idea. "Yes Sir. But she might've stolen it, 'cause I know she doesn't keep one in her flight suit."

"Well, we can get going, then," Lee stands. He wants to offer Hot Dog and Kat liberty on _Cloud 9_ for the rest of the day, but if Hot Dog wanted to be here he'd have gone off with Kat, and Kat, well...Lee doesn't yet totally trust her after the drug issue, and he'd like her to be around other military personnel.

As it turns out, she's given up on her tan anyway and she's waiting for them in the docking bay. She even gives him a salute. "Sir, we're prepped and ready to leave anytime, Sir!"

He salutes her back, a little numb from surprise. "I thought you were getting a tan, Lieutenant."

"Turns out the artificial sun doesn't actually tan skin, Sir," she shrugs, embarrassed this time. Hot Dog laughs.

Lee adds, before climbing into his Raptor, "How much longer do the two of you have on rotation?"

Frakked if he can remember the schedule he made. Hot Dog remembers, though. "Our rotation ended an hour ago, Sir."

Lee doesn't answer. He doesn't talk to them on the flight back to _Galactica,_ either, though he gives Palladino's book a glance; he'd forgotten he'd left it right here in the cockpit. In fact, the first thing he says is just a thought he happens to speak aloud, once his helmet is off and the top buckles of his flight suit are unclipped and he's skulking off of the hanger deck, a tome of Caprican poetry clamped tightly in one hand. "Maybe that wasn't such a good idea."

Lee hadn't really expected Zarek at all...he'd been expecting Stinger to give him attitude, and hopefully listen to the things he said. Lee is nonetheless broken from his thoughts when he hears Hot Dog, still walking behind him, apparently curious about what he just said. "What wasn't a good idea, Sir?"

_"Cloud 9."_ It would've been if Zarek would listen to five seconds of Stinger's superiority complex and then punch him, Lee thinks. "What if he ran off to talk more with Zarek about mutual enemies? If there's one thing Tom Zarek doesn't need, it's allies in the military."

"I wouldn't worry too much, Sir," Hot Dog answers.

It catches Lee off-guard. He's not expected Hot Dog to actually give him an opinion. "Why's that?"

"Captain Taylor is too straight-laced for him, Sir," Hot Dog was smiling, following him right into the senior officer's quarters and to his bunk despite Lee's previous barring of such behavior. Lee has actually forgotten why he came here, what he needed from his bunk as Hot Dog keeps talking. "Mr. Zarek won't work with people like that, he won't do anything shady anymore than you would."

"Huh," Lee lets his head thunk back against the wall over his cot, "Never thought of that."

"It that one of Palladino's books, Sir?"

Having forgotten he'd carried that book in his hand all the way from the hanger, Lee hands it to Hot Dog, figuring he wants a closer look. Now he remembers, he was going to lay down and read. "Yeah. Kataris."

Hit doesn't take it, he just puts his hand on it. "I've read it. Palladino and I talk a lot, Sir. We both had little brothers before the war."

"Oh," is all Lee can say. His opinion of Hot Dog and Kat as mindless goofs changes, if slightly. They obviously value life a lot more than it looks like from the surface, in their own ways. He doesn't feel like he's in a position to talk about this subject, his brother long dead and his mother falling under the category of something he can ignore, pretend he doesn't need to think about it as long as he _doesn't._ "I miss...cooking, I think."

"Cooking, Sir?" Hot Dog is still smiling.

Lee feels Hot Dog's thumb brushing his own, both of their hands still on Palladino's book. "Yeah...yeah, I know it's not...important now, but it hurts when something important just..._isn't_ anymore."

That's when Hot Dog takes the last step to close the gap and kisses him. Lee isn't expecting it, he isn't expecting anything even remotely like that from _anyone_ he knows, let alone Hot Dog. It's a kiss on the lips, but that's it, Hot Dog pulls back just as fast.

It takes Lee a few seconds of staring at him before he figures out what to say. "And what was _that_, Constanza?"

"You look like you needed it," Hot Dog doesn't shrink away. "Sir."

He takes his hand off the book, and Lee takes a good look at the red binding before he drops it in his bunk. "Funny, I seem to have a lot of people in strange places telling me what I need lately."

Hot Dog takes his lack of a violent response as a go-ahead and kisses him again. They linger this time, until Lee needs to breath and he lowers his head, but he doesn't back off, so their foreheads touch. "Hot Dog..."

It's all Lee says, because part of him is absolutely appalled that he just called the kid by his _call sign,_ and the other part doesn't know how to put into words the fact that it's been so long since a woman's kissed him (the Cylon attack making it seem even longer,) it doesn't even matter that it's _Hot Dog_ doing it now. It's the most human thing he's done since the attack. Since he first set foot on _Galactica._ Maybe since he started resenting his father. Or maybe since he _stopped_ resenting his father.

It's all Lee says, because Hot Dog does it again, and there's definite tongue involved this time. Lee pulls him close and his flight suit crinkles under his hands; it's suddenly addicting, making out with a pilot under his command, being totally sleazy about it, doing something he's not supposed to do either because of protocol or because he's Lee Adama.

He exhales sharply when they break this time, their eyes locking as they hear the alert sound through the ship. Lieutenant Gaeta's voice broke through as it usually did, almost routinely. "Action stations, action stations, set condition one throughout the ship, launch alert fighters! Action stations, action stations, set condition one throughout the ship..."

They couldn't run out and down the corridors more dramatically if they'd rehearsed it. The alert fighters are long out of the tubes by the time they reach the hanger deck, but it doesn't stop Lee from practically dropping himself into his cockpit and throwing his helmet on. He's in space seconds before Hot Dog, just in time to see the first flicker of jump drives going off in the fleet.

A Cylon basestar jumping in tells Lee where to fly before he even looks at his screens; his Mark VII catches up to the mass of other fighters led by Starbuck in short order, though the basestar is very far out. Probably not even in attack range.

It's not launching fighters, and the Raiders they're all closing in on, while a sizeable amount, aren't nearly its entire compliment. Wondering if any of the Raiders closing in are even from that basestar, Lee flips on his wireless. "Starbuck; Apollo. I miss anything?"

"Cylons just jumped in on top of us, Lee," the answer comes back "Fleet's playing it safe and getting the frak out of Dodge!"

She gives the order to her wingmen to engage seconds later, and the swarm of Cylon Raiders and Colonial Vipers, all Mark IIs from Galactica except his own, turns into a web of flying metal and gunfire.

There's more of them, and as Lee sets his sights on one and pulls his trigger, they vanish in a flash of faster-than-light travel. All of them gone, all at the same time, but that basestar is still hanging out, doing nothing. Watching.

Kat is the first one to say something. "The frak was the point of that?"

And then there are contacts on DRADIS again, Lee catches light flashing in the corner of his eye and at first he thinks it's a civilian ship jumping out, but all of the Raiders have reappeared at once, flanking them. No one else has quite processed it yet. "All pilots, break, _break!_"

The only Raiders to go down in the confusion are the ones that don't consider Lee and Hot Dog a threat for their position away from the other Vipers. The others dance around the fire coming in from their rear as they open up on _Galactica's_ fighters, but their aims are compromised because of it and there is only one flash of orange light before the Raiders vanish again.

Someone shouts, "We just lost Helo!"

Helo? Why is Helo in a Viper? Then Lee remembers that Helo is in a Viper because they get more shorthanded every time the Cylons attack, and Helo's return to _Galactica_ gives them someone with more flight experience than anyone they've found in the fleet since their first batch of nuggets.

It was his first time out, Lee is pretty sure of.

Starbuck is the first to say something, but it's not about that. "Are those Raiders making tactical jumps?"

Her rhetorical question is answered when half of the Raiders reappear to renew their attack on the fighters, but the other half is going in a different direction.

"Apollo, _Galactica,_" Lee hears Dualla in his head, "_Cloud 9_ reports difficulty with their FTL drive, Cylons are bearing down on them."

Catching himself hoping Stinger is still on _Cloud 9,_ Lee suddenly feels guilty and swings his Viper around. He thinks about Helo, too. "Anyone not pre-occupied already," he broadcasts, "Keep the toasters off _Cloud 9._"

Only a third of _Galactica's_ pilots are free to give chase at those specific Raiders, and Lee is one of them. He knocks one out of the sky almost immediately and a few others go down, but he notices a Heavy Raider that wasn't there before making a beeline for the cruise ship.

Those damn things are always so fast...on its tail, Lee lines up a shot, but just before he squeezes the trigger, he freezes.

Kat's on his wing again; he's been here before. It's eerie and Lee can't quite process it, feeling like he's heading towards _Galactica's_ flak all over again. "Apollo, we're coming up on _Cloud 9,_ Heavy Raider's in gun range!"

But it's not _Galactica._ "No...no, we don't have a shot, we'll break their environment open to space..."

That's why the Raider isn't turning to fire back at them, it doesn't need to. Lee suspects it plans on doing exactly what he's afraid of, probably breaking the dome with its guns only seconds before it crashes through.

Gunfire comes from _under_ the Heavy Raider's position, only winging it, but a few shots landing on the bow carry it into an angle and its thrusters keep pushing it so it floats up...just over the view of _Cloud 9._

It takes Lee too long, if only by half a second, to notice that he can shoot at it now. Snapping out of his memories, Lee blinks once and yanks the stick back, pulling the trigger...but he forgets he's flying a Mark VII and the Viper's nose pivots up way too much. His shots miss by a mile.

Kat lands a good volley and as the Heavy Raider spins out of control, flames rolling off its hull, Hot Dog turns toward it from above and finishes it off. The target is gone, vaporized in two seconds flat.

_Cloud 9_ jumps away, leaving only _Galactica_ and _Pegasus._ Lieutenant Dualla is on the wireless again that very instant. "All Viper's return to base, prepare to jump!"

A few pilots from _Pegasus_ take issue with this. Lee is sure the first one he hears isn't Stinger, though: "No frakkin' way, why aren't we hitting their base ship?"

It's annoying, but all Lee can do is smile as he turns his own fighter around and Commander Fisk breaks through his pilots' displeasure. "Those are the Admiral's orders; back to base or left behind, so _pick one._"

Fisk might be an old man, but he seems to have learned from Cain that attitude goes a long way to inspiring loyalty, because as far as Lee sees, all of those Mark VIIs turn and haul ass to their home.

There's a crowd on the hanger deck already the very second the jump is finished, and Lee is sure they've gathered to mourn Helo...but would that many people mourn the man right now?

Indeed, they're _surrounding_ Helo, as he's just stumbled off the Raptor that was pulling SAR and found him when he ejected. Once everyone sees that he's alive and goes back to either hating him or feeling indifferent, they disperse, giving Lee the chance to walk over. "Anyone know who shot that Heavy Raider first?"

Starbuck gives him his answer. Odd, she's usually one to jump at him with excitement after a successful mission...isn't she? "Couple of guys from _Pegasus._ Knew they'd kick ass..."

Pilots from _Pegasus,_ defending the civilians. Smiling, Lee makes his way to Helo. His head is resting against the Raptor he's sitting against, and his breathing is pretty heavy but he manages to say something anyway. "I don't think I'm cut out for this."

"Yeah, well," Lee says, "I guess this is where I should say something uplifting...but the truth is, right now, I'm not too sure _I'm_ cut out for it."

The lack of a patronizing tone in Lee's voice inspires Helo to turn his head and look at him, not saying anything, but asking for an explanation by the look on his face. Lee pats him on the shoulder instead and walks away.

Hot Dog is like that too, but he's not laid out on the deck. He braces himself against his Viper, his head hung between his arms as he tries to catch his breath. It's his post-landing ritual, Lee notes. He remembers he never did it after his training runs, only since that first time he was in combat.

Lee's never given it notice before, but this time, he walks by him and pats him on the back. "Good shot, Constanza."

Much like his mind's insistence of dwelling on his first Heavy Raider when he should've been thinking how close _Cloud 9_ was, Lee realizes he's forgetting something and snaps back into reality as he's walking away from Hot Dog. Kat is already running up to him and they've reverted to their usual back-and-fourth banter now that the combat high is going away, but it's only now that Lee thinks about what was going on before general quarters sounded.

He stops walking as he thinks about it, but he resumes his stride without looking back.

The rest of the day is spent avoiding Doctor Baltar. In the morning, Lee updates the rotations on the ready room's whiteboard, making sure to put Hot Dog on the shift opposite his. He doesn't know why he does it, only that it seems appropriate. Isn't avoiding someone just what you do when they kiss you and you have no idea what to think about it?

It works for the day, and he doesn't yell at Hot Dog for almost being late, considering the poor kid has no idea his schedule has suddenly changed for shrewd reasons. So, Lee is back in his bunk, doing not a whole lot except wishing he hadn't been so immature. He stops caring about Hot Dog, or rather, that it _was_ Hot Dog his thoughts were focused on. Lee had felt human again yesterday, for that little moment before the Cylons attacked, and more importantly, he was feeling like being human wasn't so bad after all. Who cared if _Hot Dog_ was the one to get it out of him?

Better yet, if Hot Dog is allowed to have actual human feelings when he doesn't feel the need to brag and egg everyone about his Mad Skillz, why can't President Roslin be allowed a little devil on her shoulder when she has no other choice than to do something drastic? That was the difference between her and Cain, at least...Cain _preferred_ 'drastic.'

Doctor Baltar knocks obnoxiously on the half-open hatch as Lee starts to read through the poetry in the book that Palladino handed him. He doesn't get up. "Come in, Doctor."

"Yes, well, thank you, Captain Adama." Baltar is as strange as ever, that much is certain. "I was hoping for a minute of your time, to ask you about Cylons you know." He pulls up one of the chairs that's never used, because so many pilots would rather hang out in the lounge. "Er, the Cylons yesterday, I mean. Quite the show they put on."

He's already scribbling something on a pad. Putting his book down over his chest, open to his page, Lee gives him his answer. "Not much to tell...they used their jump drives to get around us and catch us off guard. Basestar just sat there, I dunno, maybe it had a birds-eye view so it could send the fighters telemetry for their jumps. And a Heavy Raider went after _Cloud 9._"

"Yes, my guess as well," Baltar stopped scribbling. "Not much to talk about really. Oh, please don't think I don't admire you," Baltar is looking at the empty bunk next to Lee's, "You're quite beautiful. Pilots, you and your pilots, Captain Adama; nothing short of beautiful, ingenious, even, at how you always manage to excel at your work."

It's getting a little weird, even for Baltar, though Lee doesn't say that. And he wonders why the thing with _Cloud 9_ 'isn't much' to talk about, it was pretty major. "Uh, thanks."

The scientist seems very oblivious, though. "But I'm sure you can imagine how frustrating is, being expected to bring miracles out of simple things. An idiot could see what was going out there in this particular instance, but alas, here I am, expected to come up with the Cylon's grand plan because they tried a new tactic. It's no wonder I've been hitting the chapel lately!"

What a surprise _that_ is. "Really."

"Yes, well, Mr. Cavill, the new priest is...well, we have spirited discussions on just about anything," Baltar pushes his glasses back up his nose. "Just this morning, actually, we were discussing the human tendency to divide. Did you know there's a small group in the fleet now preaching that homosexuality shouldn't be...allowed, on account of the necessity to repopulate the species?"

Lee freezes at that. It's easy because he's lying down, but he stops breathing, his eyes stop moving. This might be going somewhere he'd rather it not. "Yeah?"

Baltar goes on. He's looking at that other bunk again, perhaps embarrassed despite himself. "Come _on,_ you can't deny how such issues split people. We certainly see that, if nothing else, with Mr. Zarek all the time."

"Can't say I've ever given it much thought." It feels like a Starbuck answer to Lee, hiding his thoughts of what his father might say if he knew he'd been doing something just a _little_ against the regs with a pilot. Hot Dog, of all people.

"Yes, well." Baltar doesn't care. The man loves hearing himself talk. "I do hope you'd agree with me, in fact, I'm sure you would, if you thought about it, that God is more something from the heart then a list of sins according to who knows what." He taps his pen twice against his clipboard and gets up. Walking out, Doctor Baltar says "Thank you, Captain Adama."

Taking a deep breath, Lee goes back to reading Kataris:

_Scattered to the winds,_

_Landed in the valley of darkness_

_Die in the forest, resistance on the farm_

_Go Home, phoenix rising, winged horse in the air_

_Die and fall to resurrection_

Lee disagrees with Starbuck; he likes Palladino's choice better. It rhymed.

Some hours pass. He's not sure how many as he just keeps reading and wondering how bipolar Kataris could've possibly been.

"Hey," Starbuck says.

He nods. Starbuck has long lost the ability to startle him, and he finds it amusing to half-ignore her when she just appears like that..

She's not satisfied. "Whatcha' reading?"

"Kataris," Lee answers.

Her head tilting slightly, and Lee realizes she must understand where this book came from. She says as much. "How _is_ ol' Hammerhead doing?"

She hasn't been to see him since he almost killed Tigh. In truth, she has no clue what's happening to him, either. Lee is a good CAG, he cares about his pilots, even the ones that have totally flipped their gourd. "He's fine. Bored, I guess. I think the new priest visits him, too."

Talk about a non-answer. Starbuck doesn't press it, though. "Frak, I keep _forgetting_ poor Elosha's...you know."

"She was a nice person," Lee's eyes never stray from his book, though his tone tells her that he sees the irony as well. How strange to have lost so many friends, pilots known much longer, and to think of a priest met only recently. Finally, Lee lets his book flop down over his stomach, still open to the page he was on, just like when he was talking to Doctor Baltar. "Kataris is boring, actually."

Someone stirs in their bunk, but doesn't wake up. This cabin is usually pretty vacant now. Ever since Palladino's been gone, it's been harder to ignore just how few senior officers there _are_ in their neck of the woods these days. Lee knows this. "Like I said...not one of his better works."

She leaves, and Lee is soon out in space with her on patrol. He waits for her usual banter to die down before he takes Helo for a run around the fleet in his new Mark II. "Try to keep up."

He dives around the _Rising Star_ and around _Colonial One._ When Lee takes a sharp turn and passes _Pegasus,_ coming awfully close to the Battlestar's gun batteries, it gets a little squeak out of Helo. "Whoa!"

"Just remember you've got more maneuverability than in a Raptor," Lee tells him. "I think that's the biggest difference, really."

"And guns," Helo radios back. "How do you guys do that, anyway? Shoot so straight?"

"Make like you're gonna ram your target," Lee chuckles. "Just try not to do that if they're coming right for you."

"Right," Helo answers. From the tone of his voice, Lee guesses that he can't tell if that was a joke or not.

He's actually improved by the time they land. Feeling rather good about that, Lee gives him a few more words of encouragement once they're on the hanger, then he heads back to the Senior Officer's Quarters and, once his flight suit is off, he practically falls into his bunk. Reading all that poetry earlier really gives him a headache now.

The hatch creaks open a little. Lee turns to see Hot Dog peeking in. "C'mon in, Constanza."

His tone of voice must get his feelings across pretty well, because Hot Dog doesn't feel bound by formality and he sits on the edge of Lee's bunk like Starbuck usually does, like he owns the place. "Sir. How are you feeling?"

"Better, I think," Lee finds it hard to look at him, he's not sure what to say. He can't see himself dating Hot Dog, pretty sure he doesn't want to sleep with him (though Starbuck just seems so out of reach for a relationship beyond what they have) but he knows kissing him is pretty damn liberating. After the end of the world, liberation in any form is a gift from the Gods. Still, he's not sure what to say. "Thank you. You know, for yesterday."

Hot Dog pauses, a slight crack in his invincibility. It doesn't stop him, though. "We could do it some more, if you want, Sir."

Lee looks at him now, thinking that was pretty easy after all. He pulls himself back so he's sitting up a little more. Except now he doesn't know how to say 'yes,' but again, it doesn't matter, Hot Dog reads it off of him and they're going at it all over again. It's even worse (and that just makes it better) than the last time, the way Hot Dog is leaning over him, one hand _on_ him. Hot Dog practically falls on him the first time they break, held up only by his elbow on Lee's cot. He smiles. "Glad I can help, Sir."

"Constanza," Lee tilts his head slightly, "Stop calling me 'Sir' when we're doing this."

Hot Dog nods. "Okay."

He still won't say Lee's name, and Lee finds it odd, the way that works. Still, he figures Hot Dog feels a lot more awkward than he lets on. "Just forget I said that when you're in the cockpit."

"By your command," Hot Dog nods again, this time smiling. "Sir."

"So why do _you_ need it?"

At this, Hot Dog's eyebrows go up. "What do you mean?"

"You're not just doing this because you thought I'd," Lee trails off. He doesn't want to talk about his needs right now, Hot Dog is not the person he's going to have a heart-to-heart with about President Roslin and Admiral Cain.

"I," Hot Dog pauses, rolling off of Lee for the moment so he's more propped up against the wall. "I don't know, I guess...like, when we were suffocating? I remember Lieutenant Thrace saying my lips were turning blue and I just thought...if she would just kiss me it wouldn't suck so much."

The laugher from Lee is contagious and Hot Dog laughs too, because he can tell Lee understands regardless. They're both wondering how Starbuck would feel if she knew what they're saying.

Once he catches his breath, Lee slides a hand over Hot Dog's back, slowly as if he's worried he'll break him. Hot Dog waits, staring until Lee pulls him close again and they go right back to it.

Lee doesn't know how much time passes. Only that it's not that much because no one's walked in on them and they should probably stop at some point in the near future, because someone eventually _will_ get bored skulking around the ship while they're not on patrol and come back here.

He's too late. Hot Dog jump and whacks his head off the top of Lee's bunk when Starbuck's cheery voice fills the room. "Hey, Constanza, you digging for cubits in his throat or what?"

Lee has to turn onto his side underneath him to get a good look at her. It's the umpteenth time he's at a loss for words, but he figures she's the same right now, given the sight before her. Finally, Starbuck says one thing, as if she's taken this long to process it. "Right."

She turns to leave. But then she turns _back,_ with a "Frack me!" that's more of a personal frustration. She goes right for her bunk, pries open the oh-so-sweet-smelling box under her pillow, grabs a cigar, while Lee and Hot Dog watch her, unblinking, the entire time until she walks back out.

"Well, that was weird," Lee says, surprised at his own lack of shame.

"I think we just surprised her," Hot Dog says. "She'll probably be laughing about it tomorrow."

"You think so?" Lee agrees, he just wants to hear what Hot Dog has to say.

"Yeah," Hot Dog answers. "I'll lose on purpose when we play cards next time. She'll feel great."

"Looks like she's got you trained well." How Lee manages to say this with a straight face, he's not sure.

"Yes Sir!" Hot Dog looks down at him and kisses him one last time, deciding not to risk anymore at the moment. "One doesn't question God's will."

He reaches into his pocket, taking Lee's hand in his own and pressing whatever he's retrieved into his palm before he closes Lee's fingers around it. Though Lee is pretty sure he's about to find out what it is in a second, he asks anyway. "What's this?"

"Thank you, Sir." They're not making out anymore, after all. Rank has meaning again.

Hot Dog leaves, and Lee looks at what's in his hand. It's his own brass, the wings he gave Hot Dog off of his own uniform after he helped Starbuck with those eight Raiders.

Starbuck's cigar tastes really good; she's learned to appreciate the little things in life these days. To the point where she happens to cross Colonel Tigh walking down the corridor and doesn't really care. Not that she cares normally.

He tries to make her, though. "Little early for lighting up the cancer, isn't it, Starbuck?"

She wants to make a comment about his drinking, but she's thinking too much about the sight of Lee with Hot Dog on top of him to make the wit work properly. "Amazing how you can live without the necessities of life so long as you have the basic pleasures, Sir."

Tigh isn't expecting a civilized response and he takes a turn at an intersection, though Starbuck is sure she hears a noise of contempt from him.

"Guess I _am_ a dreamer," Starbuck muses to herself as she walks to the only place she can think to go. The only task she actually has at the moment, really, so she thinks she might as well do it. It's never occurred to her before, how much she depends on Lee as a shoulder. He's just the person she hangs out with most, and she doesn't have that right now.

Briefly, Starbuck entertains the idea of hitting the lounge, maybe getting a card game going. But if she sees Kat right now she just _knows_ she's going to scream 'I'll bet a hundred cubits you can't guess what Hot Dog is doing right now.' Either that, or they'll get into a semi-lighthearted session of arguing who the better pilot is.

The door into the lab is hanging open as it always is when Doctor Baltar is inside, making the armed guards seem a bit out of place. That's the kind of thing you deal with when going to see an eccentric genius, though. Especially one that you've slept with.

All Starbuck really notices at first is that Doctor Baltar isn't doing obscene things in his lab at the moment. It's a little hard to concentrate, really, because she's starting to get some Lee Hate going on as she ponders her current situation; after all, Lee has essentially ditched her, and for _Hot Dog,_ no less. It's his fault she's going to _Gaius Baltar_ because she has nothing better to do.

"Ah, Lieutenant Thrace!" Baltar greets her immediately, looking up from his gadgets and gizmos. "What, uh...what can I do for you?"

"Captain now, actually," Starbuck roles her eyes; she needs to have a word with the Admiral about that. Rank is fairly meaningless these days, and as she's not the _Pegasus_ CAG right now, her rank should reflect as such. "Right. Anyway. You wanted to talk to all the pilots about the Cylons using their jump drives in combat."

"I did? I did!" He gets up and throws a dirty plate off of a clipboard on his desk, flipping through the pages until he gets to a blank one. "Yes, well, as you can see I've already talked to quite a few. Anything to add?"

"How can I add anything," her eyes go to the floor now, because she'll laugh very rudely if she looks at his face, "If I don't know what you already have?"

As Starbuck wonders how much Ambrosia she'd consumed to sleep with this guy, Doctor Baltar formulates a response. "Well, you, um...seemed to have less trouble adapting to the Cylons taking you by surprise like that. Certainly...certainly less than, who was it, yes, Lieutenant Agathon..."

"Lieutenant Agathon," she strains the words, sitting down in one of his chairs, backwards, "was out in a Viper for the first time. Call me crazy, Doc, but I think that allows him a little slack."

"What?" He's paying a peculiar amount of attention to the large space on his desk between trays of blood samples, "What...what I mean is...did you notice anything...specific about the Cylons in combat?"

"Well, now that you mention it," Starbuck drones on. Yeah, she's going to kill Lee for leaving her with nothing better to do. She can't blame him, making out with Hot Dog would be a huge improvement over this. "Their Heavy Raider made a beeline for _Cloud 9._ Kind of odd, not an important target."

"It had something they wanted?" That blank stare from Baltar again. "Or someone? Maybe, I mean. Maybe it did. You never know. Interesting, interesting." He's scribbling notes down, hopefully in a legible manner. "But getting back to the subject of Lieutenant Agathon, do you think perhaps his skills, as yet untrained as they may be, were at all hampered by recent events involving Sharon and their child? Err, psychologically, that is. Not to suggest he's somehow conspiring to lose Vipers."

Starbuck gives him a look that says 'I think you are a very odd man.' It's a perfectly valid question, just not one she expects Doctor Baltar, who has never shown any interest in anyone's psychological health to ask. "I...doubt it very much, actually."

"And why is that?" Baltar is the epitome of a sniveling little man now. How he does that with his level of intellect, she's not sure.

"Well, for one thing," she keeps staring at him like he's grown an extra head, "I trust Apollo's judgement, and he thinks Helo's fine for flying." Of course, Starbuck is lying, because she _doesn't_ trust Lee's judgement right now, not after what he'd said about that mission, and certainly not after witnessing his sudden willingness to flagrantly break a few regulations with Hot Dog. "For another, I've known the guy for a couple years, I think I can tell when he's off his rocker. Which he's not, by the way."

"And why do _you_ think Roslin and Adama decided not to abort Boomer's pregnancy afterward?" Baltar says this with a completely straight face.

"What does _that_ have to do with anything?" Starbuck finally can't contain it anymore, and it's obvious she thinks he's being silly. Obvious to anyone but Gaius Baltar, of course.

"Well," he drones on, "If I'm to have your opinion on Helo I really should have it on the situation as well, don't you think?"

It's not something Starbuck has really thought about. She wouldn't want to be in Helo's shoes, or Boomer's, for that matter. "I think the president realized she was acting out of fear she'd leave a problem for us otherwise. I think she's calm and rational enough now to consider she's done nothing but help us, even if it's just for the sake of her baby. I mean, that's a pretty _legitimate_ reason to help an enemy, don't you think?"

"Yes, perhaps," Baltar scribbles some more, "Are you are aware Lieutenant Agathon tried to stop the Admiral from going through with it before I intervened on their behalf? Man nearly pulled his gun, actually."

This time, Starbuck's face doesn't change. She has too much to think about. No, she _wasn't_ aware Helo had done that. She knows Baltar didn't intervene for Helo and Boomer so much as President Roslin, but what bothers her is that he tries to play it off as such. "Really. Can't say I did. Still, not too strange, I mean, people get...defensive over their reproductive rights."

And boy, did Starbuck know it. Not that Baltar is observant enough to notice. "Excellent point, perhaps. Well...anyway, I think that will do, I've certainly heard enough from everyone. On to more blood tests and vice-presidential duties of course, you'll understand if I don't show you out, Lieutenant."

Starbuck leaves like she's on fire, and as soon as she's around the corridor, she allows herself a shudder, hoping to shake off any residue from Doctor Baltar's icky-rays. Many of the men she's slept with make her wonder what she'd been thinking, but Baltar is so _bizarre_ that she can't help but put him at the top of the list. "Ew..."

"Ew, Kara? What's 'ew?'"

She spins around, coming face to face with Lee Adama. It doesn't sit well with her, because he's caught her unawares and she'd very much planned on catching him on her own terms. Still, the look on his face inspires her to recover quickly, because he seems afraid that his surprise attack isn't enough of an advantage, and she wants to prove him right. "Oh, just that smell."

"Smell?" Lee looks at her not unlike she'd been looking at Doctor Baltar for half of their conversation. "What smell?"

She leans a little closer to him, sniffing the air. "Something...oh, must be your breath. Smells like a day old _hot dog._"

His face falls into a scowl in the absence of a good comeback. "I'm not having this conversation."

At that, he turns and tries to briskly walk away, but she doesn't let him and falls in by his side. "Well I hope you didn't think you were going to have any _other_ conversation with me, Lee. I mean, come on. That's just not something you see everyday!"

He stops, deflated, and it's only now she realizes her good humor is only making him feel worse, at a time when it's the last thing he needs. "Yeah, well. It's not something I _do_ every day."

"Really," she says. They walk by Baltar's lab going in the other direction, and as soon as they're passed that, she continues. "So..."

Far enough away from the intersections to be away from traveling crewmembers, Lee finally falls apart and stops, leaning against the bulkhead because his posture against it makes it look natural when he stares at the floor. "It was just today. I don't know, maybe it _won't_ be just today or...I don't know!"

"Whoa, ease up, Lee," Starbuck is leaning on the wall across from him now. They're quiet for a moment as someone walks by. "I'm not judging you here, I'm just worried, I mean, after what you told me...and then you start snapping at Tigh and now you're...well, you know."

"Yeah, well," Lee answers, "You're being _nice_ to Tigh, I'd hardly say you're acting normal either."

"Oh, don't change the subject," Starbuck glares at him. "As funny as Tigh having a psychotic break would be..."

"Kara," he finally looks at her, "I don't know, okay? He just...I can't explain it. You wouldn't understand, and don't tell me you would. I don't want to hear it. You really wouldn't."

"Lee...fine," she nods. Starbuck only argues when she knows she can win. "If necking with Hot Dog makes you feel better, fine, that's okay. Really. I'm _glad_ for you. I just thought...I guess I thought it was a good sign you weren't doing so well, I guess."

It makes her happy beyond words that he smiles. "He's not _that_ bad, Kara."

"Lee, you'd rather hang out with Hot Dog than me," she smiles too, "That's some pretty hardcore ditching. I mean, if you wanted to get frisky, all you had to do was ask."

He stops smiling, and she can tell that it's not what he wanted at all. He doesn't say as much. "I'm...not sure how to take that."

"He's a good kid," Starbuck wastes no time in getting on a different topic. "Could've done worse."

"Did you tell anyone?" Lee's question is sudden, and nervous on top of it.

Starbuck's answer is simple. "No, of course not. Not my place, Lee."

"Thanks."

"I want gory details if anything else happens, though." She winks at him and walks away, just like that, to a horrified look from him.

Once Lee is out of sight, Starbuck wonders about him. She hopes he's really okay; doubts it, or at least doubts that he's _totally_ okay, but it's obviously an improvement since Admiral Cain's death.

She thinks about finding Hot Dog and talking to him, too. In the end, however, she decides not to. She thinks more of what she said about getting frisky, and wonders if she actually means it.

Anders isn't here right now, after all, and Starbuck is very aware of the fact that in all likelihood, he never _will_ be. She knows what Lee said on the _Astral Queen,_ too...it makes her wonder why he _didn't_ come to her.

Because he didn't go to Hot Dog either, she thinks. It was the other way around. On that thought, Starbuck is suddenly much more comfortable giving Lee his space and much less comfortable with herself, because, really, what does it say about her that she couldn't figure out what to do and Hot Dog could?

Whenever Doctor Baltar talks to someone these days, he becomes increasingly paranoid that Six is going to purposely throw him off his game.

It's not like it would be the first time. In fact, she's taken to showing up at very inopprotune times lately. Pacing around his lab once Starbuck has left, Baltar recalls these things.

That first time after the Ressurection Ship was destroyed, that messed with him pretty badly. It wasn't that he hated her, only that he was becoming increasingly aware that Cylons didn't always agree with each other and therefore, it might be worth taking the things she says with a grain of salt.

So he paces around his lab while a blood sample churns its way ever closer towards green or red, and he thinks and wonders and even sometimes prays that he's really just frakked in the head, that there is no Cylon angel visiting him from God.

It made no sense. How can there not be a chip in his head, and yet, his hallucination knows things he himself doesn't?

She tells him. _"I'm an angel of God sent here to protect you, to love you, to guide you."_

_Oh, is that all? "To what end?"_

_"To the end of the human race."_ How lovely.

"Do you really think our baby is safe, Gaius?"

It takes Doctor Baltar a few seconds that the voice in his head isn't the voice of his memories, but rather, the _actual_ voice only he can hear.

He doesn't answer at first. He recalls a dream, instead, where he was holding their baby and Adama took it, dropped it in a lake. The shape of things to come, only not. "It hardly matters what I think."

He's not looking at her as he talks. He looks at her when she grabs him by the lapel of his jacket and nearly tears it off whipping him to face her. He knows it's his own hand, that it's a trick of perception, but knowing doesn't help, and she doesn't care in the least. "Of course it matters you imbecile!"

He just stares at her, _through_ her. Isn't she the one always saying that he needs to grow a pair? Damned if he's going to start only for it not to apply to her as well. Eventually, she catches on and lets go, and only then does he say something. "Not really. Adama has guns, you see, and I don't. The simple fact of the matter is, Gina can do whatever she wants with that warhead and if Adama wants our baby dead, it's going to be dead."

"How can you be so barbaric?"

The scorn in her voice is _dripping,_ and the words remind him of another recent memory.

_"He killed our baby." And no one even tried to stop him, Gaius noticed. Not Crashdown, not Cally, no one. Far be it for them to rise up against the Commander._

_She answered as if she can't figure out what he means. "Our baby?"_

_"Adama. I saw him drown our baby." Dream or no dream, it scared him. Surely it couldn't have basis in reality; Adama is a kind, middle-aged man who goes out of his way to make the lives of others easier, if he can. "Why would anyone want to drown a baby?"_

_"Gaius, the answer is all around us."_

_"What happened here?" Funny, he couldn't remember seeing those bones before._

_"Human sacrifice."_

_And he thought, 'Oh, how **lovely.**' "I thought Kobol was supposed to be a paradise..."_

_"For a time, perhaps. Then your true nature asserted itself, your brutality, your depravity, your barbarism..."_

"I'm being _pragmatic,_" Baltar practically spits. "You're the one always talking about faith. I'm _having faith._"

"Don't use God to excuse your humanity, Gaius," she intones. He notices now that she's sitting on the table again, just like she was when Starbuck was in the room.

"Oh really! Well, why not, you seem to use God to excuse everything _you_ do, why should you have all the fun?" He's snapped now, and it actually shocks her into silence. "Sure, killing people is a sin, but nuking billions is okay because it's God's will! I suppose God speaks to you? Funny how your poor tortured counterpart makes more sense in a single sentence than anything you've ever said!"

His adrenaline leaving him, Doctor Baltar tries to breath, hoping, praying, even, that she doesn't get physical.

She hardly moves, and he knows that means he hit a nerve. "You take risks, Gaius."

"Well, God's just going to have to forgive my risk taking," he says, thunking down into a chair.

His last risk was more a risk of an awkward situation. And the fact that he didn't get caught, well, maybe that was leading to right now? Giving him ammunition to win this argument in a somewhat unusual way? God works in mysterious ways, Baltar thinks.

_From the doorway, he was easily close enough to hear what they were saying._

_Captain Adama, "And what was **that** for, Constanza?"_

_Lieutenant Constanza, "You looked like you needed it, Sir."_

_Captain Adama, "Funny, I have a lot of people in strange places telling me what I need lately."_

_It's when they moved closer again that he felt the high heel stomping on his foot, and Baltar knew he was lucky that he kept from crying out._

_He knew he was lucky that they couldn't hear her, either. "Free show, Gaius?"_

_There was anger in her voice, anger not present when he just fooled around on his own, anger like his romp with Starbuck that could've actually meant something._

_"It's a sin, Gaius. Not three weeks after they help commit mass murder, and they can barely resist their depravity."_

_He stays silent and listens._

_Captain Adama, "Hot Dog..."_

_How ridiculous they are. Still, Number Six was grinding her heel in as far as she could while he watched them embrace. "If you knew how painful this was to watch, Gaius, I wouldn't have to hurt you. Look at them, get a good look; they're blessed with a gift we can barely dream of, God gave you the ability to bear children, and look what they do instead."_

Gathering up his hodgepodge of notes (an unfortunate amount of them nothing more than doodles,) Doctor Baltar affixes his papers to his lucky clipboard and practically storms out, as if leaving the room will leave Number Six behind. On this occasion, she does not appear in the corridor, apparently having spoken her peace.

After some walking, the door he knocks on is Admiral Adama's, and the muffled response is quick. "Come in."

Always having trouble opening the hatches across _Galactica,_ it takes Baltar a second, but he's soon ensconced inside the Admiral's quarters, where Adama is sitting over his desk, going over reports but ready to end his day, it seems. He doesn't look up. "What can I do for you, Doctor?"

"Oh, well," Baltar takes it upon himself to sit down, "I thought you might like to hear about the last Cylon attack, given the oddities of it."

"Not very odd," Adama takes his glasses off, putting his papers down in favor of paying attention to his guest. "We destroyed their big trump card, it's not that much of a surprise that they're being more conservative with their military assets, as well. Seeing what works and what doesn't instead of trusting their numbers."

"Yes, well, some of the pilots," he flips through his notes looking for who, but decides not to use names when he realizes only Starbuck mentioned it, "Found it rather odd that they attempted to board _Cloud 9._"

"I thought so too," Adama concedes. "But they didn't exactly leave a note saying what was important about it. High population density, maybe."

"Yes, maybe," Baltar nods, thinking of Gina.

He wonders if thinking of her is a mistake, as Adama seems able to read his mind. "Maybe our loose Cylon from the _Pegasus_ made her way there. Might be worth checking into."

"Might be," he nods again. To refute his thought would incur some pretty hefty suspicion. He sees Number Six out of the corner of his eye, sitting on Adama's couch. Interesting that she shows up while he's talking about her living, breathing copy. "There was, um, there _was_ another matter I was hoping to bring up with you, Admiral. A somewhat...personal matter, concerning your son?"

Baltar is talking like Adama isn't going to like what he has to say. His own tone of voice makes it abundantly clear that he already doesn't like the thought of Baltar talking about Lee in any respect. "What about my son, Doctor?"

"Yes, well, perhaps 'personal' was the wrong word," Baltar shrinks as far as he can go into his chair, but he tries to act casual. "As I'm sure your relationship with your son is quite fine, quite...yes, well, that was the point, really. I was on my way around the ship and I happened to catch sight of him...well, it would seem he's _pursuing_ a relationship with a pilot under him."

Staring at him blankly for a few seconds, Adama eventually takes his glasses off and talks with a sigh, but also like he's forgotten Baltar is in the room. "I guess Kara finally got to him."

It causes Baltar to brighten, though. If Adama thinks that's bad, he'll just make it worse and see what happens. "Oh, it wasn't lieutenant...Captain Thrace, Admiral, um, let me see, I know I had a word with him about the Cylons," he flips through his notes, stressing the word 'he' to get some reaction from Six more than Adama. It fails. "Ah, yes, Constanza, Lieutenant Constanza...not that, well, not that your family's business is any of _mine,_ business, that is, but I thought, being vice-president and all, it would be remiss of me to ignore infractions against regulations and such, as long as I happen to notice."

Adama doesn't pause this time. "Thank you, Doctor. Will that be all?"

"Yes," Baltar rises, realizing his welcome is worn. "Yes, of course, Admiral."

He walks to the door, but Adama speaks again. "And Doctor, it's not the government's purview to enforce military regulation. Just for future reference."

He's not sure of Adama is frakking with him or being sincere, but either way, Baltar doesn't look back. Halfway back to his lab, Number Six is at his side. "And what did you hope to accomplish with that, Gaius?"

"Did you hear the last thing he said?" Baltar figures he's pretty much come out on top in their little fight. "The man couldn't have more obviously been telling me to pretend I hadn't said anything unless he outright said it."

"Maybe," Six answered. "Maybe he just doesn't see a reason to get excited until he handles it. Maybe you should consider that he's _corrupt_ enough to give special treatment. Besides, if you're right, are you really proving any moral integrity when the great Admiral Adama would shuck his duties so carelessly to favor his son?"

Unable to answer until he enters the lab, Doctor Baltar closes the door for once and resumes his conversation with her. "I would think, quite frankly, that willingness to put his family over his job _does_ show some measure of integrity."

"Really," Number Six has no intention of giving up. "Do you really think just because he'll do it for his own flesh and blood that he'll do it for _yours?_"

"I suppose," Baltar sits down at his computers, Number Six leaning against the wall. "That I'll at least have a little more hope."

The system beeps, it's usual tone for telling him the sample is done being analyzed. Number Six plucks the vial of blood from the machine, and again, Baltar knows it's really in his hand, but he doesn't care. One look at the color and he starts typing furiously.

Finding the blood a little fascinating, Six turns the vile over in her hands, looking at the masking tape. "What made you test this one, Gaius?"

"Selected random, of course," he's barely paying attention.

"So," she sits on his lap, back to the screen. "Brendan Constanza; is he a Cylon?"

She says the name like she'd very much like to frak that pilot, and Doctor Baltar can't help but feel jealousy rise like bile in his throat as she has thoughts of other, inferior men while practically dry-humping him. It _is_ bile in his throat, he realizes. "I'm still not going to tell."

Plucking the vial from her hand, Baltar tosses it into his trash, and it barely makes a sound as it breaks.

**fin **

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